Issue 9: Joshua Marie Wilkinson

What is the Limit?

The limit is pain.

No more friends

to shine in

aloud. It makes

sense out in the

meadow’s cover.

We await snow

& are climbing

the invisible chopper

ladder while music

fades down

as with the moon

come morning.

Which Parts Have You Forgotten?

Eyes wide awake to shun

the night’s grip

or sea to shin to road to

route to rid us of those

small worries, petty

thefts of pride or consolation.

Don’t let me back inside when

I say—as children are waking

& so singing & so climbing.

Song to a Glass of Ice Water

By water’s quay edge

to rocks & a crag

the white scouring ocean

& its yellow wolf of wind

on fire wants into

a talk with those

well beyond the fires

thereafter, thereon

thereof, & herein.

Poem to Tomaž Šalamun

Has enough been

said for the water in us?

Steps to mend, another

hot radial saw spinning

my gaze dropped to

the look of the dead

& yet another method to vanquish, yes

to hold dear as a bunny.

To harbor the hinge, harry

the quarter moon to its spot—

To listen with your hands cupped

just over your ears?

You have this one mouth.

You’re from tonight.

Joshua Marie Wilkinson is the author of Swamp Isthmus (a new book of poems from Black Ocean 2013) and The Courier's Archive & Hymnal (a new book of prose from Sidebrow Books 2014). He lives in Tucson, Arizona.